The Tragedy of Oedipus the King
by Natsumiya Teirin
Summary: In an attempt to change fate, Harry goes backwards to 1926 to ensure Merope's survival in the birth of her son. But Fate is not so easily swayed, and an immortal Harry Potter might have just unwittingly made matters worse. The psychotic attachment of his new family to him was certainly not planned, for one.
1. Chapter 1

It was a dark day when Hogwarts fell.

Even after his death and subsequent ascension to Master-of-Death status, Harry wasn't prepared.

Voldemort had fled, only to return three days later and seize control of Hogwarts, while the remaining members of the Order were forced to go into hiding. With Voldemort in control of all of wizarding Britain-Hell, all of the wizarding world for all they knew- finding a hiding place was difficult, but they managed.

Though it was strange, being stuck in a white recolor of King's Cross, while also looking down at their not-quite-dead-but-not-really-alive bodies.

The tethers between their souls and bodies had been stretched thinly enough that they could enter what was basically Limbo, while also being able to interact on the physical plane. It was unusual, but it didn't require much focus- though Harry supposed that was just because he was Death.

And it was _as_ Death that he was able to visit the dearly deceased and get their advice on what he could do. There was a bit of disagreement of course; Sirius, Severus, Fred, and James wanted Voldemort dead but Cedric, Albus, Lily, and Remus understood that, despite it being _very much_ in his power, Harry really didn't want to kill anyone.

In the end, there was really only one option that everyone agreed on- courtesy of a woman Harry had never met, but whose name he knew simply because she was dead.

Merope Gaunt.

Her thinking was as such;

Tom Marvolo Riddle became so hateful because he'd never grown up in a loving environment (because she died). As (Master of) Death, Harry could control whether someone died or not- though he couldn't bring them back after they died. With a bit of time-manipulation (courtesy of Chronos, who hated what Voldemort had become), it would be a simple thing for Harry to go back to 1926 and stop Voldemort before he could even rise up.

This was the plan they'd agreed on, and it would've worked- hypothetically speaking, since nothing had happened- since Harry was immune to the effects of time-paradoxes.

It was just the matter of actually _contacting_ Chronos- a feat which would involve going to the Underworld and having a nice friendly talk with Hades to get into Tartarus.

Having met Hades a couple weeks into his godhood and a then twice more in the few months before the present day, Harry wasn't eager to see him again. It's not that he was a bad guy- he was just...

"Oh! Harrykins darling! What a surprise!"

Eehhh...

"You really _should_ visit more often, you know- Cerberus was getting restless without his favorite playmate," he chastised. Harry tried hard not to flinch. For reasons he didn't want to understand, Hades and his...family- for lack of a better word- _really_ liked him, to the point where it was actually kinda creepy. He was thankful no other gods could enter his realm without his say-so.

"Er- yeah...hi to you, too- hey, is Chronos around?"

Hades huffed, his dark brows scrunching.

"He is- but why do you want to do business with _that_ old fuddy-duddy? You know, he actually _ate_ me!" The bitterness was quite evident.

"Yes, I know. But the human race is at stake, and I know you don't want all that extra work, and right now, he's the only one who can help me."

Hades grumbled and crossed his arms.

A minute passed. And then another.

"...Fine. But I want something for this, darling."

"Name it and it's yours."

Harry instantly wanted to take back those words. Leaving Hades to pick a price was a very dangerous thing-

"A hug."

-wait what?

"That's it?"

The elder god nodded and shrugged his shoulders.

"I'd ask for a kiss, but...you're still young, and I respect that."

This time Harry couldn't stop himself from cringing. He'd have preferred not to have any physical contact with Hades, but...a hug was better than a kiss...he guessed.

"...Alright."

Knowing it was better to get this done quickly, Harry glided over and wrapped his arms around Hades, feeling the icy cold of his skin even though his cloak. Sharp teeth curved into a smirk and red eyes slid closed, savoring. Skeletal fingers began brushing through Harry's hair, and that was when the shorter god decided to pull away, trying to conceal his shivering.

"Seeeee? That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Harry didn't voice his thoughts, and instead quickly brushed by him.

 _OooOooOooOooO_

The "Pit of Tartarus" was more of a sweltering hot room accessible only by a secret tunnel which only Hades' most trusted even knew about. Guarded by more than just a Cerberus, it was of the highest security imaginable. Such a place- dark and burning and simultaneously empty and beyond full- was the perfect prison for the titans.

Harry wiped the sweat of his brow with the back of his hand and looked around. He couldn't see a thing- not that he really expected to (it was just disorienting).

"Chronos."

The titan appeared before him, tan and dark-haired, and radiating raw power even through the red shackles that bound him.

"Well, well, well. Little godling finally decided to pop by. Have you come to bless us of the damned with your light soul? Or are you so cruel as to give us a glimpse, and then leave us in darkness?"

Somehow, this felt familiar, but Harry couldn't put his finger on it...whatever.

"I need you to send me backwards through time." No point beating around the bush.

"Oh? And why should I do you this, _little godling_?" The patronizing tone of his voice was irritating.

"Because...because Tom Riddle has grown into a monster, and I wish to change his fate."

At this, Chronos actually growled- much like a rabid dog if Harry were being honest- and Harry dared to hope.

"Will you help me change him, Chronos?"

After a moment, the titan nodded.

"I will help you, godling. But only if you promise me something."

Harry bit back a groan. Just how many promises would he have to make for this? How many could he even keep?

Taking his silence as a gesture to continue, Chronos named his terms. It was difficult to agree, but Harry did anyway. It was just another reason to make sure he succeeded.

And just like that, Harry found himself in London of 1926. The date was December 18th. Good. He still had time to get things in order.

 _OooOooOooOooO_

It took a bit of magic and string-pulling and lying, but by the 30th, Harry had a house to call his own and a decently-sized account in both Gringotts and a couple different banks in the muggle world- under different names, of course. He'd also invested in stocks- but only ones he knew would still be there by the 1980s.

And now, on the night of December 30th, just two blocks away from St. Wool's Orphanage, it was time to set his plan in motion.

 _OooOooOooOooO_

Merope Gaunt looked worse in life than when Harry had seen her in death- especially so since this wasn't just a memory. She had dull hair and...well, dull everything, really, except her eyes he guessed. They were dark and...utterly hopeless. She looked so defeated, it tore at his heart just _watching_ her.

Pale arms, bony and thin and frail, clutched at her middle, and the starved and beaten woman looked to be in great pain. She stumbled, and Harry caught her. It was like he'd just happened to be passing by.

"Excuse me, miss? Are you- are you alright?" He had to play the part of a concerned stranger.

Merope looked up at him, her face heavy.

"Oh...oh, sir, please, I need- I...I need to get to the- the orphanage. Wo-won't you...can you tell me how to...how to get there?"

Harry shook his head.

"Nonsense, ma'am! Come with me to my home- it's closer!"

Merope was too weak to protest, and allowed Harry to carry her into his house, conveniently two houses away from where she stumbled.

Harry had no experience with childbirth, but he figured it wouldn't be too hard to figure out. Merope was gasping in sharp, silent pain- contractions, most likely-and Harry was inwardly panicking. But there wasn't time to call a midwife, so he just laid her in the master bedroom on the first floor and told her to push when she felt it was time.

Once the ordeal was through, Harry was quick to wash and swaddle baby Tom before placing him gently in his mother's arms.

Merope's thread- the lovely thing connecting a soul to a body- was starting to tear.

"Rest, miss. You'll be able to name him afterwards."

And reluctantly, Merope closed her eyes and fell asleep.

The soul was going to leave soon.

 _No, not yet. You are still needed here._

The glowing grey of her badly scarred soul was starting to flicker, as if in protest. It hovered above Merope's prone form, but didn't float upwards like most souls would've. Harry gently cupped his hands around it, and smiled in understanding. He could see this soul had been under so much- it was surprising it hadn't left sooner.

"I know..." he murmured, careful not to wake Tom, who'd fallen asleep.

"I know it's hard. But everything will be alright from now on. I will keep you safe and heal your scars, and together, we will look after the precious soul of your son."

The soul stopped flickering.

"Don't give up yet. Life will end your hardships."

There was a flash of crimson and gold light as Harry laced it with his own magic. When the light died down, the soul was bright and whole and so, so very beautiful.

Harry's smile widened and he repaired the frayed threads of Merope's soul before placing it back into her body.

Her breath, heavy and labored before, evened out, and she already looked healthier. Confident, Harry set to work preparing a nice dinner of chicken and noodle soup. Merope would need the nutrients, and if he was right in his assumption and she _had_ lived off basically nothing, the soup shouldn't be very hard on her stomach.

 _OooOooOooOooO_

Merope woke up to the scent of soup and the sounds of a baby- her precious baby- giggling. Her eyes opened blearily; she wasn't expecting to wake up at all, truthfully.

"And...peek-a-boo!"

Another giggle.

The kind stranger who'd helped her was playing with her baby. Somehow, it suited him.

Right then, as if sensing her wakefulness, the man- who looked just a bit younger than herself- turned her way, the baby in his lap mirroring him. How strange, that she recognized his green eyes- exactly the color of a killing curse- though she couldn't ever remember meeting him before today.

"-him?"

Oh. He was speaking to her.

"Beg pardon?"

He smiled in a way that told her she was pardoned.

"Have you decided on a name for him?"

The man turned back to the child with a fond look. He clearly had a fondness for children.

Merope swallowed.

"Tom, after his papa. And then...Marvolo, after mine."

He nodded- almost as if he already knew. But that couldn't be.

"And his surname...it'll be Riddle."

Another nod, and Merope remembered her manners.

"Oh yes. I am Merope. Merope Gaunt. And you are?"

"I'm Harry Potter. You can just call me Harry, if you want."

"Potter?" Any wizard worth his magic knew of the Potters, but...

"I wasn't aware there was a 'Harry'..."

"That's fine. Not many know of me."

Merope was silent, and Harry returned to playing with Tom for a few minutes before abruptly getting up. He gently set the baby in her arms and then left the room, only to come back with two steaming bowls of soup.

In her arms, Tom fussed, and Merope figured it was time for his dinner, as well. She set him in her lap for just a second while she undid the top buttons of her dress. Harry politely looked away as she lifted Tom again to suck on her teat, and she felt grateful.

Once Tom was fed and sleeping, Merope began eating, noticing the soup was still warm. A heating charm, perhaps. But it tasted delicious, regardless- savory and well-seasoned, and nothing at all like what she'd eaten before, even when Tom was with her.

Once she was done, Harry took the bowl from her.

"Are you still hungry? There's still plenty soup left."

She shook her head, her tongue still relishing in the taste, and Harry hummed.

"That's fine, I guess. Rest up, in any case. You and Tom are always welcome here for as long as you want."

She felt tired, then, and hoped her gratitude was showing in her eyes- since she couldn't speak.

As he left the room once more, Merope closed her eyes and fell asleep to the memory of kind green eyes and a generous smile.

And up above, Fate watched them, grinning. She was more powerful than even Death, and she could not be swayed- especially not by him.


	2. Chapter 2

Eighteen months passed.

Even as young as he was, little Tom knew that Harry- Papa Hawwy with the pretty, pretty green eyes and soft hair that was always fun to play with- was not his father. Because both him and mummy had said he looked like his papa, and then mummy asked if 'papa Hawwy' knew his papa (and he did, but not very well, and not for any good reason).

But Tom liked calling Harry 'papa' anyway. He liked the way his eyes would light up and the fond smile he'd wear even as he said 'I'm not your papa, Tom' in response. Sometimes, baby Tom wished he could reach up and steal those shining eyes _and_ that smile and keep his father-figure's smiling face all to himself.

And on those days when mummy went to try and get money and 'papa' was left to look after him, he would pretend he could.

 _OooOooOooOooO_

In 1930, the markets crashed, the economy went down the loo, and Tom turned four years old.

He still called Harry 'papa', and at some point Harry stopped discouraging him- Merope had stopped when Tom turned two.

Around that time, too, Tom met Harry's one-sided friend Hades. It was an odd name, but not too much｡The man himself was what took him by surprise. And judging from Harry's reaction that day, he wasn't expecting him either.

 _OooOooOooOooO_

It was December 28th, three days before his fourth birthday. Merope was out working- as a caretaker at the nearby orphanage- and Harry was taking care of him. Breakfast was toast and orange marmalade-homemade, of course- and lunch was cabbage and potato soup. St. Wool's hadn't paid much, and Harry was trying to spread his money evenly- so Tom could have a decent inheritance.

Harry had just set Tom down for his midday nap and was going to start washing the dishes- in fact he'd only just gotten to the sink- when there was a loud pop.

Harry's first thought was, _'dear Merlin please don't let that wake Tom,_ and then he saw exactly who it was.

 _Oh Godric_ why _?_

"Hello again Harrykins!"

It could've been the lack of exposure, but Hades' high voice sounded more obnoxious than usual.

"Please don't wake the child," Harry said, already agitated.

Hades huffed.

"So sensitive. Oh well. I was planning to meet widdle Tommy today anyway."

"You won't want to if you wake-"

"Papa? Who's that?"

Inwardly cursing, Harry let Tom cling to his leg, then picked him up when the boy's hands began tugging on the hem of his shirt- a maroon polo this time.

"Tom, this person is-"

"Well hi there Tom! I'm your uncle Hades!"

Harry shot Hades a half-hearted glare but didn't refute him. He didn't know what name Hades was using.

Tom ignored him anyway, digging his hands into Harry's shoulder blades and laying his head in the crook of his neck.

"Papa read to me," he demanded. Harry sighed again.

"Alright. Let's go, cub."

He began heading towards Tom's room- right besides the master bedroom where Merope was staying. Hades followed him, prattling on about Cerberus and the latest antics involving the prisoners of Tartarus. Harry tuned him out as he tucked Tom back into bed.

"-and you know how Cerberry absolutely loves those rubber balls, so Chronos just conjured one up and-"

"What story shall I read you, Tom?"

"-and then he left- Harry are you listening?"

Harry hummed distractedly as Tom clutched onto his shirt.

"Mm...I dunno! Papa- tell me a story!"

Harry nodded his head agreeably and settled himself at Tom's bedside.

"Alright cub. Once upon a time-"

"-Once upon a time there was a mighty and powerful god who was sick of his human love interest-slash-friend ignoring him, the end!" Hades interrupted quickly, indignant.

Harry hummed again.

"Your fault for coming during naptime and waking my adoptive son. But you're welcome to try again tomorrow morning after his mum leaves for work," he said, his voice falsely sweet.

"Hmph. Fine. See if I save your neck when Chronos comes knocking."

An empty threat and they both knew it, but Harry was nonetheless pleased when Hades popped out of the mortal realm. Tom was fidgeting impatiently.

"Now then... _Once upon a time_ , there was a man named James and a woman named Lily..."

 _OooOooOooOooO_

 _"And they died to keep their son Harry safe from a dark lord..."_

The words of a long-forgotten story echoed in his mind, and Lord Voldemort found himself recalling a kind face, untouched by age, with eyes the color of Avada Kedavra.

 _Potter...Harry Potter..._

Even like this, the boy continued to haunt him. But why?

Why was such a memory coming forth _now_ of all times? Was it even a memory, though?

It must've been a dream- there was no way Potter would ever end up telling him a _bedtime story_ , and _certainly_ no way he'd actually _listen_.

The Dark Lord was in a good mood regardless. He took over Hogwarts, finally, and his Death Eaters had killed off a good number of the Order. They'd all celebrated around a bonfire made up of the corpses, and no one really noticed that Potter's body- which everyone saw him hit with the killing curse- wasn't with them. No one, of course, except him.

And what was especially irritating was that he still didn't know how to feel about it.

On the one hand, Potter was dead, _finally_.

On another, he actually wanted to display that corpse- to send a message if nothing else.

On a third hand, a tiny part of him remembered the eternally warm eyes of the man he called 'papa', and dared to hope that Potter _hadn't_ died.

Blasphemous.

But that sickening soft and childish part, the part that missed his father and wanted to keep him to himself, had been cropping up more often lately. It was like a constant buzz in his ears, and it seemed determined to drive him mad. Not even the enjoyment of a well-placed Cruciatus could put an end to it.

Truly vexing indeed...

 _OooOooOooOooO_

Merope Gaunt was a hard-working woman, at least by muggle standards. They had no idea that half the work she got done was done with magic. They also didn't know that she had a child- a fine thing, as they would've pitied her for it, and that wasn't quite what she wanted.

What they _did_ know was that she was living with a man who had no need to work himself. At first the girls questioned it- the suffrage movement having passed not so long ago, how dare he laze about and force her to work?- but then Merope explained her reasons, and all was well.

She'd decided to work herself, first of all- else she'd lose her mind in that house (lovely though it was).

Secondly, Mr. Potter was a very kind man, and she'd grown to love him. If he stayed home, no one could take advantage of his love, and more importantly, no one could steal him away from her.

After her explanation, Merope and the women of the orphanage got along quite well, and would end up idly conversing as they worked cleaning up.

"I say Merope," began Ms. Kate one day, "Have you become Mrs. Potter yet?"

Merope paused at the cutting board a moment before shaking her head. "No, but I hope to some day soon."

Ms. Kate hummed at that and said, "Well, I hope he asks the question soon. I don't know _why_ he hasn't already- the two of you are already living together, after all."

Yes, why indeed, mused Merope. It's not like a marriage would worsen things- together they'd be more financially stable, and they _were_ already living together, _raising her child together_ , and if they got married, it would be another form of insurance, so Harry would have no choice but to stay with her.

 _Forever and ever and ever, never able to abandon or abuse me like_ them.

"Perhaps I'll speak with him about it tonight, then."

 _OooOooOooOooO_

That night, after Tom was tucked in, Merope asked Harry why he hadn't proposed to her. The sadness and guilt she saw in his eyes as he answered almost made her regret asking.

"It's...it's complicated, Merope. I...I had a wife once already, you see-" and suddenly he was telling her his life story "-and I loved her very much. We married young, but we were in love, and we even had a son on the way. She...she died in childbirth, and my precious son fell ill a few months later. The doctors and healers- they couldn't do anything, so- so-" his voice hitched, and now Merope really _did_ regret bringing it up"- little Albus died _in my arms_ and just- I'm so, _so sorry_ but I _can't_ -"

He cut himself off and Merope pulled him into a hug and rubbed small, light circles on his back, and he sniffled and cried and that was the last time marriage came up in any of their nightly conversations.

The next day Ms. Kate asked how it went, and all Merope could say was, "He's a widower". Ms. Kate only nodded her head sympathetically- "much like my cousin, you know"- and that was that.

 _OooOooOooOooO_

There weren't many children in the area, unless one counted the many children in St. Wool's, so there weren't many who'd bully Tom for his little bursts of accidental magic. However, "not many" is different from "none at all", and Harry failed to consider this when, one Saturday, he decided to take Tom to the playground just beside St. Wool's.

The venture started out well enough, though Tom was reluctant to leave Harry's side at first, and kept glancing at him from the sandbox a meter and a half away. After ten minutes, Harry gave up trying to reassure him that he wasn't leaving, and instead just watched him toddle around with the stuffed puppy Harry had gotten him for Christmas.

And then the kids from the orphanage came out.

They were loud and very violent, and Tom didn't like them at all. He made a beeline towards Harry, feeling safest with 'papa', but fell down when a larger boy was accidentally pushed into him. He whimpered.

"Oi! Watch it ya freak!"

Tom looked down at his knee, skinned from the fall, and whimpered again. The bigger boy forced him up, the stuffed puppy dangling from the younger Tom's hand.

"Well freak? Ain't ya gonna 'pologize?"

Again, Tom didn't answer. _He_ wasn't in the wrong and he knew it.

The boy holding him spit off to the side as two other boys joined him.

"'Ey. I think we gonna hafta teach this freak 'ere some manners!"

He threw Tom onto the ground and, without any warning, kicked him. His lackeys joined in, not even giving Tom the chance to curl up into a ball. Harry's blood boiled at the sight- he loved children, but he'd been bullied enough himself, so to see a group of kids hurt a boy half their size (and his _son_ , at that) was unacceptable. He went to intervene, but just as he was nearing the corner of the playground, green sparks shot out of Tom's hands, and a stray brick conked one of the boys in the back of the head.

He yelped and fell back, his wound bleeding lightly. The other two looked at him and then glared down at Tom, whose fingertips were still sparking.

"You freak! You did that, didn't you!?"

Before things could escalate further, Harry intervened.

"That's enough!" He exclaimed harshly, "Why don't you ruffians go and bully someone your own size!"

At the sight of an adult, the boys scrambled to get away, and Harry picked Tom up, remembering to grab his stuffed puppy, too.

"Tom..are you okay, cub?"

The boy moaned and Harry's eyes softened.

"...Let's go home and get you fixed up."


End file.
